


behind the sea

by rowdyhomo



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Izumo is a Mermaid, Shiemi is a Witch, technically there's nudity hence t
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhomo/pseuds/rowdyhomo
Summary: izumo hasn't trusted anyone in many years and hasn't relied on others longer than that. however, in this foreign world of dry earth, dry air, dry skin, dryeverything, she begrudgingly accepts shiemi's proffered aid.





	behind the sea

**Author's Note:**

> this story takes liberties that say mermaid can transform their tails into legs and such on their own. rules and regulations about this transformation that apply may be found in subsequent chapters if it's relevant.

“What the hell is _wrong_ with these things!”

Shiemi pauses in her stroll, wide eyes flicking to the rock covered cove she’d been passing by. The voice is husky, raspy like the person hardly ever spoke, and obviously irritated. Even now the person continues to grumble, wordless complaints mixed in is a indescribable hissing. So, not human, then, or at least not entirely.

Nervousness creeps along Shiemi’s spine as she clasps her hands together before taking a cautious step back. It’s not that she’s opposed to nonhumans, per se, one could even argue that Shiemi herself isn’t particularly human as a distant descendant of Mother Earth herself and a witch to boot. But, well, her grandmother’s wards sectioned off their piece of beach for a reason.

There’s lots of dangerous things in the world, after all.

Shiemi reaches within herself to grasp at the overwhelming well of _life/earth/decay/green_ settled at her core. Her hands fold into a complex pattern as she coaxes the tendrils of magic out to…she doesn’t know what. Hide, probably. The earth will gladly take her within itself if she asks and few can get her there, in the sanctuary of her birthright. But if the creature is malevolent as she fears, it might just follow her home. Her stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought. Her grandmother is old, power faded and waning as it stretches thin over three generations, and she’s what her mother disdainfully sniffs at as ‘irredeemably pacifistic’. The old woman would never fight. Even if she could.

Trembling, Shiemi shifts the interlocking of her fingers, pushing and pulling at her magic until it’s something more aggressive, sharp edged and wild.

An indignant yelp carries across the calm seaside. Then there’s shifting sand and the sound of flesh striking stone hard followed by an unmistakably pained cry.

Shiemi rips her hands apart, the gathered magic fizzing out around her, bolting toward the sound. She rounds the bend and is through the gap in the rocks before her mind catches up with her. Even then, she doesn’t spare a thought about traps because whoever, whatever, this person is, they’re hurt and—

Oh.

Shiemi blinks. It’s a girl. A girl with the palest skin and the most gorgeous waterfall of purple hair Shiemi has ever seen. She’s a small, toned thing, from what Shiemi can tell as the girl, her back to Shiemi, scrambles to her feet. Her weight balances on one leg and Shiemi can just see a trickle of red trailing down the other leg that the girl doesn’t quite let rest on the ground.

“Oh!”

Right! Injury! That’s what she came here for. Not to ogle at this poor—

The girl whips about at Shiemi’s soft exclamation.

—very, very naked girl.

Shiemi does her utmost not to choke on her tongue. She succeeds but the sound that escapes her instead tarnishes her dignity no less. Her eyes resolutely glue themselves to the sand below their feet. Heat blooms from her neck up even as she slaps a hand over her eyes for good measure.

“Where are your clothes?!”

The stranger across from her splutters, “My what?”

“Your—“

“Nevermind,” snaps the girl. “What are you doing here?”

It’s an awfully accusatory tone for someone trespassing on her property, Shiemi thinks, cautiously peeking out from between her fingers. The girl is just as naked as before, her fists planted shamelessly on her hips, as she scowls at Shiemi with burning ruby eyes.

“Y-your leg!” Shiemi squeaks out, face growing hotter as she adds her other hand to her self-made blindfold. She really, _really_ wishes the earth would swallow her now.

“Huh?”

Shiemi lifts a hand from her face to wave vaguely in the strange girl’s direction, “I heard you fall and thought you might be hurt so I came to help! Now, could you please put on your clothes?”

“…help?”

There’s something odd about the way the girl repeats the word. Her voice quiet and edged with hackle-raising distrust. Worse yet is the smallness of her voice. It reminds Shiemi of strays kicked one to many times.

Chest aching with empathy, Shiemi nods slowly, explaining, “I have healing magic.”

A long silence stretches between the two as Shiemi waits patiently for permission or dismissal.

The girl shifts back and forth before finally grumbling, “I don’t have any…clothes.”

She sounds so terribly disgusted by the idea that Shiemi can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, well, here! You can borrow my coverup.”

Shiemi wiggles out of the light dress, before handing it off to the girl, eyes closed.

A pause. Shiemi wonders if the girl left when she feels a ginger tug on the coverup. Shiemi lets it go, trying not to shift from foot to foot too nervously. She’s not ashamed of her body, not in the least, but her swimsuit shows a lot more skin—a lot more of her. She can’t help but spiral a little into self-conscious thoughts about ungainly she must seem next to this lithe girl.

“So, um, how come you didn’t have any, uh, clothes?” Shiemi asks for a lack of anything better to say. The tips of her fingers tug fitfully at the edge of the little miniskirt of her swimsuit.

“Ugh! Because I didn’t—“ A sound a little like choking, an angry yowl, shifting sand, and the familiar slap of skin against the earth. “—need them! Urgh, there! Now I won’t offend your sensibilities.”

Shiemi peeks an eye open, catching sight of the girl as she picks herself up from the sand, injured leg shaking as she dusts the grains from herself with that irritated hissing from before. Shiemi’s cover up hangs loosely on the other girl, one strap sliding haphazardly off a shoulder, collar dangerously low on her chest, and yet, despite the raggedy appearance she’s still the prettiest girl Shiemi’s ever seen.

Absolutely unfair, that.

Giving herself an internal shake, Shiemi steps closer. Immediately, red snaps to green, pinning her in place with the sheer suspicion there

“Is it ok if I heal you, now?” asks Shiemi, smiling and unhesitant.

The girl eyes her tensely before huffing. Arms crossed, she leans against a nearby stone and sticks the bleeding limb out from herself.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Unhurried, Shiemi kneels down next to the girl’s injured leg. One hand twists on itself, fingers curling, while the other hovers over the bleeding wound. The girl is tense under her hand, muscles coiling tight as Shiemi’s magic gathers into the soft shape of _growth/repair_ beneath the witch’s skin. Golden light lines Shiemi’s outstretched hand like a waving, living thing. Slowly, it stretches out tendrils that sinks into the girl’s skin and Shiemi lets her eyes fall shut despite the girl’s anxious hissing.

It’s not so much of an image as a feeling that floods Shiemi’s mind as she stretches her magic into the wound. Torn muscle and skin, ripped raw nerves and blood vessels, and cracked bone echoes within her as if the feelings are her own. Whatever rock the girl had fallen on must have been fairly sharp to have fractured the knee bone like this. With a gentle nudge, Shiemi directs her magic to sealing bone, then knitting muscle and soothing nerves. In between she threads capillaries back together, matching the separated ends to their perfect fit. The girl squirms beneath her ministrations, a hand scratching at her leg just above where Shiemi’s magic suffuses through tissue.

A garbled word that Shiemi doesn’t understand, but nonetheless recognizes as a curse, spits from the girl’s mouth. There’s a pause, then the curse again, and the red-eyed girl says, “That _itches_.”

Shiemi hums an affirmative, attention much too focused on the injury to do anything else. A few moments more and the wound resolves itself, leaving unblemished skin behind. Slowly, Shiemi begins to unwind her magic from where its woven into the girl’s tissue. Until finally, it sinks back into her own skin. Shiemi doesn’t let it dissipate back into her core, however, instead pushing at the shape and form of it until it’s something sharper, even as she rests her hands on her thighs.

“So,” Shiemi begins, beaming up at the girl. “What’s a creature like you doing around here?”

The girl doesn’t start, or flinch, like one might expect from someone disguised caught. She blinks slowly, the corners of her mouth down turning, and her brow furrowing. She stretches out her leg and bends it back, testing the new painlessness of it without any apparent concern for Shiemi’s deduction.

“Creature? I’m human,” replies the girl, voice a picture of puzzlement.

Shiemi would almost believe if it weren’t for what she’d felt while healing the girl. When it came to healing non-magical folk, the process is long and dangerous if the healer's control is not absolute. The simple fact of the matter is that their bodies can't handle magic the way magical creatures—or even supernatural folk who're unable to use magic—can. In addition to this, the innate magic within in all supernatural folk, regardless of ability, actually helps Shiemi heal. This girl’s inherent magic had responded very well to Shiemi’s own, coaxing her magic along natural healing paths, like any supernatural being's magic would.

Then, there’s the hissing.

“A human…that hisses like a boiling tea pot?” asks Shiemi, slowly, just to make sure the girl is understanding her skepticism. “And doesn’t wear clothes.”

The girl flushes, her fists clenching at her sides. She edges away a step.

“It’s a distant thing! From…from my great-great-grandmother, it always seems to win out is all,” the girl explains. Her eyes glance about before settling resolutely on Shiemi’s. “A-an’ I _had_ clothes but then I took ‘em off t’ swim. When I got back they were gone s—so someone must’ve taken them!”

Shiemi politely doesn’t point out that there’s no one around at least a good twenty miles.

After a long moment of silence, Shiemi’s skepticism battling it out against the girl’s fib, the girl lets loose something awful close to a snarl as she shifts her weight. It takes Shiemi a moment to realize she’s doing it to run. Before she can get any words out the girl is already off. It’s graceful for about three steps, then it seems as if the girl forgets how her legs work. Her rhythm falters and her legs tangle together, sending her belly flopping onto the sand.

Shiemi hears a muffled howl of irritation and wonders if the girl knows what sand tastes like. Certainly, it looks like she ate a lot of it.

With a soft sigh, Shiemi stands. She lets her magic settle back into the core of her, shapeless, while swiping the sand accumulated on her legs. The girl has only proved Shiemi’s point by running and she could still be dangerous but…Shiemi thinks of how she poked the girl with her suspicions and the girl hadn’t retaliated. She hadn’t tried to hurt Shiemi for figuring it out when she clearly didn’t want it to be known. Instead, she had run. Thinks of her small, small voice as she says ‘help’ like she’s had the floor stolen from under her too many times.

Hands clasped behind her back, Shiemi makes her way to where the downed girl is on her hands and knees, spitting sand from her teeth. Shiemi carefully leaves a couple feet of space between them, not wanting the girl to feel crowded, and bends down a bit to catch her eye.

“Are you injured?” Shiemi asks, tone neutral.

The girl glares at her, body tense from head to toe, and brow fully furrowed. Begrudgingly, she shakes her head.

Shiemi nods, straightening to look up at the clear blue sky.

“You know…I think I must have been wrong before. Only a human would be this clumsy,” the blonde says, aiming her tone between nonchalant and teasing. An offering, of sorts.

Immediately, the girl flushes a bright cherry red and splutters, “I’m not clumsy! It’s just—! The sand’s uneven, y’know!”

Shiemi hums noncommittally—drawing another angry retort from the girl—letting her gaze fall back down. The girl’s eyes are narrowed and the turn of her mouth is furious. Her face red with indignation. But, none of these can mask the relief Shiemi sees in the way her brow uncreases.

The girl could still be dangerous, but most things are in this world of magic.

“Shiemi,” says the blonde brightly.

Confusion replaces the girl’s embarrassed anger, causing her to shift back on her haunches and her nose to scrunch up.

“That’s my name. Shiemi,” the witch clarifies, smile broadening. “I figured if you’re going to be eating my food and wearing my clothes, we might as well know each other’s names.”

“Wait— _what_!? I haven’t eaten any of your food!” protests the girl as she rises to her feet. Her hands reach down for the hem of the coverup. “An’ if you wanted your stupid clothing back you could’a just asked!”

The girl is already halfway to tearing it off before Shiemi grasps her wrists, embarrassment flooding her cheeks.

“No! No! That’s not what I meant!” stutters Shiemi, slowly releasing the girl’s wrists once she’s certain there will be no forthcoming nudity. “I just meant—you don’t have anything, do you? You said you have no clothes and I didn’t see any other supplies so you must need them, right?” 

Shiemi bites her lip, hesitating for the first time in their encounter, but she plows on, “You don’t have to give me your name, if it bothers you. I’ll still give you whatever you need—"

“ _Why_?” The interruption is quiet but no less cutting. The girl’s eyes flick up from where she cradles one wrist as if Shiemi’s touch has burned her. Red ice chips dig into Shiemi’s loamy soul, searching for something the girl is certain must be there. A trick, a hint of falsehood, but there’s nothing deceitful to be found. The girl continues on, voice hard with suspicion and something close to fury, “Why do something for someone if they won’t give you somethin’ in turn? If there’s nothin’ to gain? When I already—already _owe_ you?”

Shiemi doesn’t understand it.

“Because…because you need help and I can give it. I’m not lacking and it’s no hardship,” Shiemi explains, watching the girl who’s puffed up again, like a bushy-tailed stray cat ready to run. With mercilessly soft honesty, she adds, “And because I _want_ to.”

The girl flinches as if Shiemi has struck her and Shiemi _aches_ for her. Shiemi about faces on her heel, unable to bear the sadness of the girl without doing more that might push the girl too far. She waves a hand over her shoulder.

“You can follow me to my house, my grandmother is there—actually, she’s in the garden and she doesn’t ever leave so you don’t have to see her—and my mother isn’t expected back for a few months, so it’ll just be me there,” the blonde says, leaving the choice of following entirely up to the girl.

For a long moment, the sound of water rippling gently along the shore is broken only by the sound of Shiemi’s steps in the shifting sand. Another set of footsteps pad up quietly next to Shiemi, keeping in step. Shiemi glances at her from the corner of her eye.

“Izumo,” says the girl quietly. The way people whisper secrets.

Shiemi grins.

“Thank you,” Shiemi tells her, voice warm with sincerity. If she thought she could, she would give Izumo a hug.

Izumo snorts, crossing her arms and turning her head away from Shiemi, “For what? I didn’t do anything. I jus’—didn’t want you referrin’ t’ me as ‘you’ all the time. That’s perfectly reasonable!”

 _Thank you for trusting me,_ Shiemi doesn’t reply, smile as wide as the horizon the whole way back home.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're tired of reading "the girl" i can't wait to tell you how tired i am of _writing it_
> 
> will there be actual mermaiding? you fucking bet your ass there will


End file.
